Powerless
by gymjunky71
Summary: Stiles breaks his leg during a case. Losing his appetite and unable to exercise, he loses lots of weight. This makes Scott worry for his health. Sciles bromance galore. Part 1 of 2 up.


**Powerless**

 _[Part I of II]_

Stiles urged his legs on faster, bounding over protruding tree roots and rocks that obstructed his path. He narrowly avoided falling in the river and ran frantically along the back. The Shapeshifter was not far behind. Suddenly, he heard Scott give a pitiful dog-like cry and then a great splash.

"Scott?" Stiles skidded to a halt, flailing his arms to balance himself.

In the river was Scott and the current was too strong for the werewolf. He must be injured. Stiles surged up a jutting rock and dove into the foaming water. He fought his way to the surface.

"SCOTT!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. "SCOTT! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Stiles?" Scott yelled, "OVER HERE!"

Stiles turned and spotted Scott struggling to stay afloat as the effects of the injury from the Shapeshifter took effect. There was blood in the water, prompting a surge of adrenalin like Stiles had never felt before. Heart hammering, Stiles plowed his way through the water to Scott. Scott sunk below the surface just as Stiles reached him. Stiles scooped Scott up and grabbed a hold of the slick rocky bank.

"You get out first!" Scott choked out.

"Are you crazy?!" Stiles panted, shoving Scott halfway up the bank.

Scott groaned with pain, squeezing his eyes shut. Stiles fought to breathe while being pummeled by the powerful current. Scott was dragging himself up the rest of the way when Stiles lost his grip and the current gripped him.

Now fear for his own safety became all too real.

Stiles reached out for Scott, who was screaming his name and telling him to hold on, but Stiles was sucked under water. He tumbled head over heels beneath the waves. Finally he resurfaced but he couldn't scream for help anymore because water was using every opportunity to fill his lungs like water balloons. It was no use fighting the current but still he kicked his waterlogged shoes and clawed at the foaming waves. His young heart was pounding with terror.

Young. He was too young to die. And of all the ways he thought he might die in Beacon Hills, drowning was not on the list.

Scott wasn't going to reach him in time. Stiles felt his heart spring to his throat as he dropped through the air, propelled by the water. He had gone off a waterfall. He landed feet first and heard a _crack_. The water rocketed him to the bottom of the lake. It was at least thirty feet deep.

Stiles couldn't see the moon. He was rolled across the jagged bottom, sharp rocks slicing his skin right through his clothes. Stiles's head throbbed and his lungs burned for air. When he kicked off the bottom, only his right leg responded. He knew his left shin was bending at a very wrong angle.

He weakly swam up to the surface at which point all his strength left him. He passed-out. He floated on his back lifelessly to the riverbank, hidden amongst the underbrush. Stiles awoke to the call of his own name. He heard someone splashing across the river to him but he couldn't move just yet.

The more alert he became, the more his body agonized with pain. Stiles longed for the nothingness he felt while unconscious.

"Stiles! Are you okay?" Scott asked breathlessly, lifting the underbrush and exposing Stiles.

Stiles peaked open his eyes. The moonlight outlined Scott's muscular shape towering over him, making his best friend appear to glow. Like some sort of angel. But, Scott was not an angel. He was a werewolf and all this supernatural business had landed Stiles deep in the mud and unable to move.

" _Scott_?" Stiles gasped weakly.

Scott grinned for a moment, in relief, "Yeah, I'm here. Are you hurt?"

"I don't know," Stiles croaked. "I can't get up."

"Here," Scott doubled over, "I'll help you."

Scott gripped Stiles under his arms and Stiles made to move his right leg - he screamed with agony. Faintly, he could hear the voices of Scott's pack redirecting their course to them.

Scott immediately released Stiles, "What's wrong?!"

Stiles hovered his quivering hands around his shin, afraid to touch it. His shin was lying at an odd angle just below his knee.

"Your leg is broken." Scott gasped.

"Y-You think so, wolfy?" Stiles groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

He breathed shallowly, unable to catch his breath what with the pain that was erupting from the break. Stiles swallowed dryly, gazing pitifully up at Scott with welling eyes.

"Get me out of here, Scott." he whimpered.

His tibia was the weight-bearing bone of his leg. Walking was impossible. He could feel it swelling and bruising. Stiles eyes rolled upward as he closed them. He was so tired.

* * *

Stiles has made almost weekly trips to the hospital while researching cases. He has been a patient there before. But, not with a health problem as severe as this. He did not need much of a cover story, however. Clumsily losing his footing and falling into the rushing river sounded quite believable to Mrs. McCall.

 _"Broken tibia. Closed, complete fracture."_

 _"High impact-trauma."_

 _"Compartment syndrome."_

 _"Watch for signs of arthritis. The break is near the knee."_

Stiles thought it quite unnecessary to take an x-ray due to the obviousness of his broken shin but it was explained that they needed to determine the extent of the break. He still felt too weak to voice his opinion, which was just as worrisome as his broken leg.

"Are you okay, Stiles?" Scott asked him tentatively.

Stiles could barely turn his head, "Yeah. Soon I'll be up and kicking your ass for making me save you."

Scott chuckled. Stiles laughed quietly, groaning when the pain suddenly swelled. After all the paperwork was completed, he was placed in his wheelchair with an elevated leg rest. He noticed Scott standing with his arms crossed, lost in deep thought.

"Gonna push me outta here, buddy?" Stiles asked.

Scott blinked and moved behind Stiles to the handlebars. They used to play with the wheelchairs when they were children. Stiles own expression soured when he remembered that he'd be confined to this thing for around a week.

* * *

Stiles's first day back to school was about two weeks later. His scratches were red but scabbed over and the bruise on his cheek was healing. He definitely looked like he fell off a waterfall. He swung himself down the school hall on his crutches. His cast felt looser than it had when he got it but it seemed to be growing heavier each day.

His supernatural group of friends were at his locker, waiting for him.

"Sign it up," Stiles leaned against the wall of lockers. "By winter break, I don't want to see a blank space anywhere."

Kira, Lydia, Liam and Malia all decorated Stiles's cast till the first/warning bell rang. No one was starring at Stiles as much as Scott was.

"What?!" he chuckled at their bewildered looks. He showed Scott which books he needed him to carry for him to his next class. "I swear, it's like you've never seen a broken leg before."

Scott shook his head wearily. "It's just you look skinny."

"I have a mirror, you know." Stiles rolled his eyes. "Enough with the skinny-shaming."

Scott clarified, " _Extra_ -skinny. I-should-lock-you-in-a-Dunkin-Donuts-factory skinny."

Stiles laughed, " _You_ try eating while in never-ending nausea from persistent pain." He stopped laughing when he saw the concern in Scott's eyes. "Dude, I'm feeling loads better now that I can get out of the house. An ass like mine does not do well glued to the couch."

Scott pouted, "I just feel responsible for all this -"

"Stop that." Stiles playfully wacked Scott's hand.

"You know I can't."

"You'd have done the same thing for me!"

Scott slowed to keep pace with Stiles's ungainly gait down the corridor, "You've been following the doctor's orders though, right? You've not been overexerting yourself? It'll complicate your recovery -"

"Scott, stop." Stiles told him shortly, pausing to catch his breath. "I've got the pamphlet, too. You're such a worry-wolf sometimes."

Scott held Stiles's crutches and books while he helped Stiles climb the staircase to the second level. They ran into Coach.

"Stilinski!" He shouted at them. "How soon can you be back on the field?"

Stiles shared a look with Scott, whom replied, "He has a shattered tibia, Coach. That can take four to six months to heal. He's out for the season."

Yet another thing that Stiles had to give up when he saved Scott.

"Wanna sign my cast?" Stiles offered lamely, barely managing to lift his leg.

Stiles was so relieved when lunch came around. He could finally take his next morphine pill dose. His face had been paling with managing the pain for the last hour.

"It was sheer force of will that I did not puke in history class!" Stiles stammered, working the plastic bag open.

Scott widened his eyes, "Are those _morphine_ pills?" Stiles didn't answer. "Stiles, that's too much."

"Well, I'm in 'too much' pain."

"Let me help you." Scott took the bag from Stiles's trembling hands.

One of Scott's werewolf abilities was pain transference. Stiles was about to allow Scott to do it but then Scott continued -

"So you won't look like a druggie."

"I can take care of myself, Scott." Stiles snatched it back, "And I don't look like a freakin' druggie."

He swallowed a pill with his diet Coke. The carbonation burned his nose, making him rub it. Eventually, the pain melted away from his body. He managed to eat his PBJ, washing it down with the rest of the Coke. A week later, Stiles did not look to be improving.


End file.
